


Lunch at the Y

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Matches After Midnight [16]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fuckruary 2021, Fuckruary 2021: Location Location Location, Humor, Oral Sex, POV Chloe, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 05, Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sweet, written before 5B aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: When the mall's food court offerings prove unimaginative, Lucifer sneaks into Chloe's dressing room.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Matches After Midnight [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620778
Comments: 38
Kudos: 198





	Lunch at the Y

**Author's Note:**

> For [Fuckruary 2021](https://fuckruarychallenge.tumblr.com/), using several prompts: clothed sex, dressing room, and "You have to keep quiet."

A boutique in L.A.'s largest mall, Arcane is trendy and upscale, with retail workers who are just a hair too attentive. The store has more clear floor space than not, specializing instead in small collections of clothing and jewelry crafted by local designers. Even the dressing rooms are nice—fully-enclosed, with cherry wood walls and soft, flattering lighting that surrounds the full-length, tri-fold mirror. The space smells of vanilla, and some sort of alternative pop plays quietly on a sound system.

In the store's backmost dressing room, fabric whispers as Chloe smooths her hands down her breasts and stomach while inspecting herself in the mirror. Between a gathered waist and a neckline that plunges into a provocative vee, the blue floral dress she's trying on hugs and accentuates her body in all the right places. Touching the spent bullet lying on her chest, she turns sideways. The gently pleated flounce swishes about her thighs, so that the large white and dusky pink flowers adorning the cloth open and close like morning glories.

Chloe isn't sure why she comes to places like Arcane, but sometimes she finds herself in them, trying on a pretty dress and reminiscing about acting and modeling days she doesn't _actually_ miss. It's silly. She knows what she's going to do: buy the jeans, the blouses and button-downs, the sensible shoes. It's who she is, who she chose to be a long time ago.

And yet, occasionally and against her better judgment, she tries on a dress. Even _buys_ the dress, excusing such purchases with thoughts of future "undercover work" which rarely comes to pass. Mostly this means she has a closet full of dresses she's never worn. A few may not even fit anymore.

Rolling her eyes at how ridiculous she is, she grabs at the hips of the slip-on dress and is in the process of tugging it off herself when the lock to the dressing room door clicks free. She spins round, the dress cascading and swaying as she slams a hand against the door.

"Someone's in here," she says firmly, only to splutter in surprise as the door is shoved against her hand anyway. "Hey! I _said_ , it's o-ccu-pied."

A stage whisper sounds at the edge of the door as it opens despite her attempt to keep it closed. "That's rather the _point_ , Detective."

Oh, for crying out—

"Seriously?" Relaxing with a huff, Chloe swings the door wide on her boyfriend, the Devil, who has boundary issues she mostly enjoys and accepts, even if she shouldn't. " _Lucifer_."

"I was just thinking we—" He trails off, grin falling from his face as his eyes sweep down her body. "Oh, that's bloody perfect on you, Detective."

Startling as she remembers the dress, she looks down at it with a shy smile. "You like it?"

"Deceptively innocent has never looked so good."

Snorting in amusement, she turns back to the mirror. The navy blue of the dress is nearly identical to the navy blue of the Glen check suit he's wearing. "We match," she remarks, feeling inordinately pleased by it for some reason. 

"We do, don't we?" His smile turns lopsided as he steps the rest of the way into the dressing room and closes the tall door behind him. Between his build and personality, it's like he takes up the entire space. His gaze catches hers in the mirror. "You should get this one." 

"Maybe." Chloe shakes her head. "Lucifer, what are you even _doing_ in here?"

"Keep your voice down, Detective," he hushes through a chuckle. "Are you trying to get me into trouble?" He pouts, pretending to care. As if he can't mojo or bribe or favor his way out of anything. 

"I thought you were getting something to eat," she whispers. 

"I was," he whispers back with a hint of mischief in his expression. "But nothing called to me in the food court, did it?" 

"Oh, nothing _called_ to you." 

"Mm."

Rolling her eyes, she turns to him and enjoys the way his focus dips down to her legs, pauses at her breasts and necklace, and then resettles on her face. "So you thought you'd break into my dressing room?" 

"There was no _breaking_ ," he corrects in a whine, his arms stretching the short distance between them. Heavy, warm palms curl around her waist, and her own hands find his chest out of habit. She runs a fingertip over one of the pearlescent buttons on his crisp, white dress shirt. "I simply thought…why suffer the offerings of this tragic little shopping center, when my favorite all-you-can-eat buffet is within walking distance?"

"Well, that's great," she says, patting him indulgently. "You should go there. I won't be long."

Lucifer stares at her for a long moment before scoffing. "Honestly, Detective." 

"What?" Her brow furrows.

Breathing a soft laugh, he steps forward. In the small space, it forces her to step back and follow his lead. She looks up at him, startled, her lips parting as the mood in the room suddenly shifts and warms, as it has a way of doing between them sometimes. Her heart skips a beat as he walks her into the wall to their right. The wood paneling is cool against her back. Beside them, the shirt and pants she wore into the dressing room still hang from a hook. 

"Lucifer?"

One of his hands slides up, catching gently on fabric. Fingers skim her heaving ribs and the curve of her breast before gliding to the open neckline of the dress. Chloe shivers as their skin meets and his fingers bump along her necklace on the way to her throat. His thumb brushes her cheek, and the look he gives her conjures memories of last night—and this morning, too.

"I'm positively _starving_ ," he comments, one dark brow arching. "And I happen to know"—his other hand drops and unerringly cups her sex through the dress—" _exactly_ what I want to eat."

The sound she makes as she tilts her hips toward him is undignified, but she's getting used to how he pulls those out of her, and takes some comfort in knowing she can give as good as she gets. She flattens her palms against the wall at her back, fearing what could happen if she were to touch him, too. Then she watches, spellbound, as he licks his bottom lip. He's laying it on thick. 

She hates that it's working. 

"We're in _public_ ," she reminds him—or herself, she's not sure. Either way, the words come out a little too husky to be a rebuke. They're more like an embarrassed admission of her excitement.

"Yes," he agrees, mouth twitching, "you'll have to keep quiet, won't you?"

Chloe hesitates, her thoughts a jumbled mess as his hand remains still between her legs. This is light years away from plain-Jane jeans, blouses, and sensible shoes. The sort of stuff she's gotten up to during, well, not her proudest moments. And it's unfair to the people who work at Arcane, not to mention _lewd conduct_ , and—

And she nods. "I can be quiet."

Lucifer's grin is sharp and immediate. There's a smugness to it that's infuriating, an undertone of _I know what you like, Detective, mojo or no mojo_. 

" _Excellent_." 

Aroused as she is, she's about to smart off when suddenly he sinks to the black tiles before her, heedless of his suit's fine wool. A surprised laugh burbles out of her. He grabs hold of her bare knees, and they stare at one another as he slides his palms up, along the tops of her cool thighs and beneath the dark shadows of the blue skirt's edge.

"I should get out of this dress," she says shakily.

"Leave it," he replies, flipping fabric with a flourish. With that, he ducks his head beneath the dress and lets it fall over him like a veil.

Chloe's eyes widen as he clutches the inside of her thighs and pries her legs apart with an urgency that goes straight to her groin. She stumbles slightly, her socks slick on the tiled floor, as he yanks her panties down to her knees. His arms go around her legs and his hands clutch at her ass. She watches, overwhelmed, as the lumps beneath the dress that are his head and shoulders surge forward at the same time he pulls her to him.

She slaps a hand over her mouth when his tongue flattens across her clit. A full-body shiver rushes through her, and then it's strangely hard not to laugh—at herself, at the slight tickle of his stubble that always makes her giggle at first, and at the situations she keeps letting herself get dragged into with him. She really thought she'd drawn the line at handjobs on stakeouts, but apparently not.

Lucifer licks into her, swirls his tongue, sucks, and he is _not_ quiet about it, even if _she's_ nearly exploding with the effort to remain silent. He slows or pauses on every whimper, shushing against her clit like an overexuberant librarian. Holding back her sounds, her head lolls to the side, and she looks at them in the tri-fold mirror.

The dress covers him down to his shoulders, where his spine is bowed as he leans on one knee, the other bent up to his chest. Behind her, the dress shifts as he squeezes her ass in time with his unrelenting ministrations. She's no less debauched—lips parted with her uneven breathing, her cheeks and breasts flushed, her hips grinding forward. At some point, one of her hands left the wall to rest atop his covered head.

In passing, she realizes she'll need to buy this dress.

Minutes stretch on, and she feels herself climb the precipice of her desire. She climbs toward release again and again, but it's not enough. Her head is filled less with what he's doing than what they _could_ be doing instead. Chloe squeezes her eyes shut in frustration. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thinks, and pats his shoulder.

Lucifer pops up from the skirt like a freed jack-in-the-box, his hair a riot. "Something wrong?" he asks, licking wet lips. She wants him so badly that she jolts when fingers, unseen beneath the dress, replace where his mouth was a moment before. He massages her idly, but with such precision it would be funny if she weren't struggling to think. 

"No, I…" Biting her lip, she crooks a finger, inviting him to stand, which he does without taking his fingers away. He leans toward her, and Chloe's hands immediately go to his belt buckle, her eyes falling to where his suit pants are stretched by an obvious erection. 

"Fuck me?" she suggests in a whisper.

"You little minx," Lucifer chuckles, and palms one of her breasts through the dress.

She looks at him sheepishly, their matching profiles moving in the mirrors in her peripheral vision. His breath hitches as she tugs his zipper down and wraps her fingers around his shaft, giving him a pointed look. Shoving his other hand away from her skirt, she shimmies out of her underwear and stuffs them into his breast pocket, much to his pleasure. When she lifts one leg, he grabs it, hooking it over his arm. There's a fight with the dress between them, and the slack wool of his pants before they slip down to his thighs, but then she feels him, heavy and hard between her legs. The inside of her thighs are wet with want.

When he enters her, it's pure, sweet relief that makes her eyes roll back in her head. His mouth meets hers roughly, and they swallow each other's sounds. They move together, feverish and frantic, his belt clinking at his thighs, her hips thudding against the wall.

He grabs hold of her waist, grounding her enough to keep her one foot on the floor from slipping, and the leverage of it, combined with everything else, right down to the wild look on his face, is enough. Chloe's head falls back and bangs against the wall, and it hurts, but she's also coming around him in dizzying waves. His face twists up as he looks down at her. She's not sure if he's about to come or laugh at her, or both.

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door. 

"Ma'am, are you still in here?" a woman calls. "Do you need some help or a different size?"

Chloe freezes. She expects Lucifer to as well, but he has no shame. His belt clinks one loud and last time as his pants drop all the way to the floor with what is clearly a home run thrust. He seizes up, the cords of muscle around his neck straining. The king of desire is normally a vocal lover and all the hotter for it, and the strain of his silent O face makes it look like he's dying.

"W—I'm fine!" Chloe chokes out, caught somewhere between pleasure, mortification, and hysterics. Lucifer continues to roll his hips, his mouth dragging against her hair. "Be out in a minute!"

There's an awkward pause, and Chloe's certain the woman on the other side knows, not least of all because two people are out of breath in this dressing room. 

"Cool…" the woman says slowly. "Uh, let me know if...you need anything."

Her footsteps fade, and Lucifer slides out of Chloe several moments later with a cheeky smirk. He passes her his pocket square to clean up, and she glares at him with annoyance she doesn't really feel, and that he knows she doesn't really feel, because affected exasperation is _at least_ thirty percent of their partnership. Cleaning and dressing quietly, they stand side-by-side before the mirror and attempt to look...less like they've been fucking in a dressing room. Between mussed hair, dust on the knees of Lucifer's pants, and the twinge in Chloe's thigh that's bound to make her walk funny, it's probably a lost cause.

"Right, then." Lucifer smooths his sex hair for the dozenth time, only for the same curl to droop onto his forehead. "Much as I love lunch at the Y," he says, and Chloe rolls her eyes, "I really am peckish now, and the food court's _boring_." 

"We can go get food after I pay for this." She's solemn as she folds the dress and runs her fingers over its beautiful pattern. She imagines stuffing it in her closet, never to be seen again. Lucifer reaches out and taps a finger on the fabric.

"I didn't know you liked these sorts of things, Detective."

"You've seen me dress up," she says evasively.

"Only for work."

True, she thinks, and doesn't bother telling him what he missed by standing her up on their date, so long ago. After all, it's probably just as well he did stand her up. 

"I guess I just like it on my terms?" Not like when she was growing up and being stuffed into dresses and makeup and being given lectures on dieting. She shrugs, still looking at the fabric. "Outside of work, I don't have much reason to bother."

Lucifer is quiet for a moment. "Then we'll endeavor to change that, should you desire it."

Her heart squeezes as she looks up at him and his rebellious curl. Not for the first time, she's struck by how they simply...fit together. Trysts in dressing rooms and all. Neither of them expected to be so well-matched, and neither of them dares go down the existential rabbit hole of the hows or whys of that. It just is.

So maybe she's been buying dresses all these years for him.

"I'd like that," she whispers.

"So would I." His smile is brilliant as he holds open the dressing room door for her. "I mean, really, who doesn't like easy access to their favorite things?"

For that alone, she makes him wait five minutes before following her out of Arcane.


End file.
